


You're fire, but sweet, hot coals beneath my feet

by odd_Otter



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Banter, Birthday Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Adam Parrish, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Richard Gansey III is a Good Friend, Ronan likes cars, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, but he also likes car shops, especially with Adam in them, getting it on at Boyd's, lets talk about FEELINGS, pynch - Freeform, who listens to records anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odd_Otter/pseuds/odd_Otter
Summary: Adam’s birthday has come and gone. For once in his life, Ronan doesn’t know how to give gifts. For the 10 millionth time in his life, Adam doesn’t know how to admit he’s upset.Relationships are hard, but these boys are trying their best. They’re also horny.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 11
Kudos: 145





	You're fire, but sweet, hot coals beneath my feet

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic. All my training (ie: reading other fanfic) has prepared me for this. Title comes from “warm blood” by flor.

It was hot.

It was hot in the way only rural Virginia can achieve. It was the heat you would remember when you reminisced about summer growing up: hot asphalt, intrusive sunlight, dry grass. Every movement you made was just a little too constricting.

Ronan hated it. 

He cursed the Pig for its poor ventilation and its lack of an air conditioning unit. He cursed that day in the fields with Kavinsky, slaving over making an identical, perfect replica of Gansey’s prized possession, flaws and all. He could’ve at least installed a working AC unit. Surely  _ that _ would have been a reasonable addition?

The windows were down in the Pig in an attempt to circulate air, but this only managed to blow the Virginia humidity into Ronan’s face. He slumped in the passenger seat, watching the trees heavy with green leaves loom over the road and the tiny houses interspersed among them.

Gansey was astoundingly quiet next to him. Not that Ronan cared to chat. The heat made him want to move as little as possible. Engaging in any form of conversation seemed too strenuous. But Gansey was doing that thing with his thumb and his lip, and his eyebrows were drawn together. Something was clearly on his mind.

Ronan tried to let his mind wander like he usually would do behind the wheel: just asphalt and the trees and the sky. But no matter where he tried to escape, all he could focus on was how his legs felt too hot in his black jeans or how his tee felt too snug. He could feel a bead of sweat begin to drip down his back. Ronan normally refused to let anyone tell him how to dress, but Mother Nature was more persistent and more headstrong than even Declan. He still wasn’t going to completely submit to her will, but he begrudgingly admitted ditching the leather jacket this morning was a life-saving decision. 

Out of the corner of Ronan’s eye, the stop light at the quiet intersection turned green. Gansey never surged forward like Ronan did at stop lights (whether they were green, yellow,  _ or _ red), but this time he wasn’t moving at all. Gansey sat there, thumb on his lips and his eyes focused somewhere beyond the check oil light that never went out. 

Ronan stared at Gansey for five more seconds before snapping, “Light’s green.” The insufferable heat was dampening his normally cheerful mood.

Gansey jumped, his head looking up to the light hanging above them. 

“So it is. Sorry about that.” The Pig groaned as Gansey forced it forward. It also did not like the heat. 

Ronan rolled his eyes, already regretting what might come from trying to engage with Gansey as he said, “You seem off.”

“Me?”

“Who fucking else? Noah?”

Gansey grunted, “Quite right.”

Ronan shifted in his seating, trying to avoid the sweat stain in his back. “If he was here, maybe it would be a damn bit cooler in here. Where are we even going again?”

“Did I not say it before?”

“No. You just saw me leave my room and said ‘Good, you’re up, I need company.’” He had spent the night at Monmouth trying to pack the last few things in his room before permanently moving to The Barns, but it proved to be a more sentimental process than he imagined. It was hard not to think about everything that had changed over the past year. Plus, a Monmouth without a Noah to throw out of windows just wasn’t the same. He ended up just laying on his bed, tossing a grimy tennis ball Opal had found God-knows-where up at the ceiling for most of the night.

Ronan continued, “And now I’m here in this heap of junk about to become a damn puddle after melting in the sun.”

Gansey replied, “Sometimes you can be quite the drama queen Ronan—”

“If you call me a queen again I swear to God—”

“It’s July. You grew up in Virginia. What did you expect?”

Ronan huffed, “Just tell me where we’re fucking going.”

Gansey sighed, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel. “We’re going to the record store.” 

Ronan was not expecting that, but it wasn’t particularly odd. Gansey liked old things, and records were old things. “Why?” 

“I just want to... peruse a bit.”

Ronan studied Gansey. Gansey darted his eyes at him then quickly back to the road. Ronan didn’t lie, but if he did, he figured he would still do a better job than Gansey.

Still staring at Gansey, he stated, “Bullshit.” 

“What?”

“Something went wrong.”

“What do you mean, ‘Something went wrong’?”

Ronan picked at his bracelets, the leather clinging to his skin. “I don’t know, but something did.”

Gansey scoffed, “Well I don’t know what —”

"Does it have to do with Blue?”

Gansey made a series of noises similar to what Mr. Carney, their chemistry teacher, had made when Ronan made a rather lewd comment about protons, neutrons, and the nucleus.

Ronan smirked, “Oh, now you gotta tell me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“At this rate, I’m a goddamn unicorn since everyone keeps saying I’m impossible. C’mon, man, spill.” 

Gansey groaned. “Fine.” He glanced at Ronan again, then back the road, his brow furrowed. “We were in the backyard. Blue had brought out the family record player, and we were listening to a few of her favorite records.”

“Blue has records?”

“Not many. Practically all of them are from Maura. Mr. Gray gave her a Kinks album too. Anyway, at one point, she went inside to tell Orla to be quiet and get some yogurt. We had just been listening to her favorite record, which is this original copy of The Runaways’ first album. I picked it up to take a closer look.”

Gansey paused, and Ronan waited, and The Pig clanked along the road. This was all typical. 

He continued, “Well, Helen called me to complain about some garden party my mom was putting on and she was forced to go to. I got distracted and left the record on the table, which, of course, had been sitting in the sun all day.” 

Gansey got quiet again. Ronan leaned in slightly, eyebrows raised, urging him on. 

Gansey stared at the road and said, “Apparently, records can warp when left on a hot surface for a long time.”

Ronan asked, “How fucking long did you leave it there?”

“It must’ve been ten minutes, but by the time I picked it up again it was bumpy and definitely, completely, unusable.”

Ronan lifted his head up as he barked out a single laugh. “Blue must have been so pissed.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I snuck out the front door before she came back.”

Ronan was devastated that he wasn’t able to witness the image of a terrified Gansey running out of 300 Fox Way to avoid the wrath of a Sargant woman, like an antelope running away from a pride of lionesses. “She’s gonna fucking kill you.” 

“I know. That’s why I’m going to the record store to try and find a replacement or… at least… something that will make her not put my head on a spike.”

“And I’m coming with you because?”

“Because you were at Monmouth and probably weren’t doing anything else with your day.”

Ronan wanted to protest, but it was too hot to give a shit. And Gansey was right, as usual. “Well, good luck with buying back Blue’s good graces. I’m sure she will love that.”

Gansey retorted, defensive, “I’m not  _ buying it back _ . You know what? I can’t bother to argue with you right now.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. Even perfect Gansey was affected by the oppressive heat.

Ronan would have continued to tease Gansey mercilessly just for the fucking fun of it, but they were driving past Boyd’s, and something more important had caught his attention.

It was Adam, who was outside, bent over the engine of the grey mini-van every soccer mom owns. Adam, who was now standing up. Adam, who was now walking slowly — was he slow, or was the world slow? Is this what people meant when they said “it was like a dream”? Ronan’s dreams were such acid trips he could never relate to that idea, but he was pretty sure this is what they meant.

Walking in the direction of the oncoming Pig, Adam threw a rag over his shoulder. He had his coveralls rolled down to his waist, and his white t-shirt was worn with the remains of oil stains and grease the washing machine couldn’t remove completely. He grabbed the bottom of the shirt and pulled it to his face, trying to wipe off the sweat on his forehead. It gave Ronan the perfect view of Adam’s chest, toned from years of labor and shiny with sweat.

It didn’t feel real. Honestly? It felt like the set-up of a porno. A porno that was  _ made  _ for Ronan. This boy, at this car shop, slick and shiny, rubbing his face with those god-awful-wonderful hands. It took all of Ronan to suppress the groan that was building up inside him.

“How’s that going?”

Ronan jolted up. His forehead had been resting on the frame of the car. Gansey, of course, had also been in the car the whole time. 

He tried to push away the embarrassing thought of Gansey watching him drool over Adam. “What the hell are you talking about?” It occurred to Ronan how he may have actually groaned when watching Adam. Was that only in his head, or had that happened aloud? 

Gansey calmly turned the Pig around the corner. “Since you were poking into my relationship with Blue, I figured I’m allowed to do the same with yours.”

“I wasn’t poking, you obviously fucked up and I just caught on real quick.” 

Gansey kept pushing, “It’s a simple question.” Which was preposterous. With Gansey, few questions were ever “simple.” And Ronan hated answering questions. Gansey knew this. Worst of all, the answer to his question was certainly not simple.

Ronan replied, “I don’t know. He’s busy. I’m busy.” It came off as brusque and apathetic, which pleased Ronan.

Gansey looked skeptical. “You’re busy?”

“Shut up.”

There was a pause before Gansey said, “It’s a shame he had to go to work right on his birthday.”

Ronan grunted and shifted in his seat. “It figures. I think if someone forced him to sit on a beach and relax, he would still find some meaningless, impossible task to do, like shoveling sand to make the beach smaller or something.”

Gansey gave a small smile which was 50% amusement, 50% guilt. “I guess so. And even if you got him a bulldozer to help, he would just throw a fit.” Ronan smirked. Maybe they would just innocently drag on Adam rather than talk about the topic Ronan wanted to avoid. Ronan could deal with that.

Gansey sighed. “At least we did something for him.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. “We went to fucking Nino’s, is that something?”

“I’m sure it was to Adam.”

Damnit. There it was again. It nagged at Ronan, like the bead of sweat dripping down his spine. He tugged at his bracelets. “I guess so.”

Gansey, as always, had the uncanny ability to recognize a disturbance in Ronan’s normal stormy attitude. But instead of teasing him, like a sane person would do, he preferred to go  _ deeper _ .

“Did you end up getting him anything?” 

Ronan scoffed. He liked this response because it was more than silence, but it also wasn’t a full answer either. 

But it was not sufficient enough for Gansey. “Sounds like a no."

Ronan mumbled, “Then that’s what it is, if you wanna think that way.”

“I mean, it’s not a bad thing that you didn’t get anything. It’s certainly none of my business—”

Ronan snapped, “I don’t need a goddamn lecture, Gansey.” 

Gansey didn’t respond. He didn’t because he knew. He already knew everything once he heard Ronan’s voice. He could hear the guilt hidden beneath the venom. 

Ronan sighed loudly, “Jesus Christ.” He shifted again in his seat, slamming his head on the back seat and looking outside. His t-shirt was sticking to him so uncomfortably, like the words caught in the back of his throat.

“He deserved more,” was all he needed to say. Why couldn’t he say it? No, fuck that. The question really was: why didn’t he do anything about it? 

It wasn’t that Ronan wasn’t good at giving things, especially when it came to giving things to Adam. But Adam had needed hand cream. He had needed money to keep living in that shitty apartment. He didn’t really _need_ anything for his birthday. So, now, Ronan had to be creative. Not that creativity had ever been a problem for him either. Most of the time, he was too fucking creative for his own good.

Apparently, however, picking out the perfect birthday gift for Adam was far more difficult than Ronan expected. Whenever he tried to brainstorm, his thoughts returned every time to how this gift would reveal something. It would reveal something… intimate. A deeper understanding. A knowledge of the unknowable.

Long story short, Ronan had chickened out. Funny how he could have literally dreamed up the perfect gift, but when the day arrived, he showed up at Nino’s empty-handed. He had nothing for Adam. He gave the most curt nod across the table that he had ever given. Kept the vicious comments to a minimum. Avoided eye contact. 

Adam didn’t say anything. He never did and never would, of course. As he got up to go to work, he wrapped Gansey’s humble attempt at a green and silver striped scarf around his neck (even though it was the middle of summer, knitting was Gansey’s latest in a string of new hobbies), pocketed a travel-size bottle of Henry’s favorite hair gel (“It works wonders!”), and carefully balanced a plate full of Maura’s famous sludgy brownies in one hand and Blue’s small but impressive painting of a familiar clearing covered with blue petals in the other. Before he turned away from the booth, Adam had glanced at Ronan for a passing moment. Ronan recognized the look. It was the same one he gave Ronan when they explored Cabeswater together. A look of curiosity: “Is there more?” But it was sadder, so it really came off as: “Is that really all there is?”

And he hadn’t seen Adam since then. To be fair, Adam had been working non-stop since they all left Nino’s, but Ronan didn’t need to talk with Adam to know. That look was enough. Ronan almost wished Adam had punched him: at least then the physical pain could match the gross pain sitting in his chest.

Gansey interrupted his thoughts, “I’m not going to lecture at you, Ronan.”

Ronan glanced over at Gansey, who just kept staring at the road. The afternoon sun was descending further, making the shadows stretch across the street. Gansey pushed down the flimsy sun shade above his head to shield his eyes from the orange glow. 

Gansey continued, “But… you’ve always been better at doing things rather than saying things.”

Ronan thought about this, and, as fucking usual, wise old Gansey had a point. “Well, what should I do?”

“I think you know.”

“Wow, thanks for that. What would I do without you?”

“You have an instinct, Ronan. And for better or worse, you always follow that instinct, even if makes you do stupid things.” Gansey glanced at Ronan to shut him up before he could retort. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen that instinct stronger than when you’re with Adam.”

Ronan tugged at his bracelets, watching the road curve.

Gansey continued, “I can’t believe I’m telling  _ you _ this, of all people, but maybe you should stop thinking and just let that instinct guide you again.”

Ronan thought about the way Adam looked at him before he left Nino’s. It lasted barely a second, but now it was permanently stuck in his head. He thought about how Adam had learned to expect the bare minimum in his life. Ronan would be damned if he was the person who continued to make Adam believe that. Ronan’s anger at himself replaced the guilt that had paralyzed him before. He was going to fix this.

But Jesus Christ, he was so afraid of fucking it up.

The Pig halted in front of a dingy shack of a store. A sign shaped like a record swung delicately above the door.

Gansey pulled the key out of the ignition and looked at Ronan. “It’s time for us to redeem ourselves.” Ronan rolled his eyes but unbuckled his seatbelt.

Gansey smiled broadly. Now there were both on a mission to right past wrongs. He tapped the dashboard two times as he opened the door. “Excelsior.”

* * *

Once they returned to Monmouth, Ronan immediately got in his own car and went straight back to Boyd’s. Gansey saluted Ronan as he drove off, and Ronan replied with a loving wave of his middle finger. 

By the time he arrived at Boyd’s, the sun was approaching the horizon. The road was dead. The only sign that anyone else existed was Adam’s own zombie car parked outside the garage. A few crickets chirped somewhere past the tree line behind Boyd’s. Ronan slammed the car door, but it felt like the heavy air muffled the sound from reverberating past this sphere he had entered.

He started his way to the garage, his feet crunching on the gravel below him. As he walked, he recalled the night he came and scared the shit out of Adam. Which was hilarious. That same night, he gave Adam the hand lotion. It felt like worlds ago. He had been so terrified. And he hadn’t even given the lotion to Adam directly. He had just left it in the seat of his damn car. He clutched the item in his right hand more tightly, his heart quickening at the thought of what he was about to do.

As he entered the garage, he was greeted by the dim light from a rusty lamp, the soft crooning of some melancholy oldie tune, and a beautiful view of Adam from behind, bent over the engine of a large, red pick-up truck. Ronan took a moment to admire the scene before determining how to make his presence known. Because he could never simply say “Hello” when he entered a room, he walked over to the work table nearby, placed his gift there, and shut off the radio with a harsh click.

Adam jumped and whirled around in a fighting stance, sticking out his wrench like a sword. Ronan put up his hands in mock surrender, smirking, “Come on now, Parrish, there’s no need for violence.”

Adam lowered his weapon with exasperation and rubbed his eyes with his other hand. “Jesus Christ, Lynch. You can never enter a room like a normal person, can you?” 

“It’s nice to see you too.”

Adam sighed, “It’s like that night you came with your weird monster all over again.”

“Hey, it wasn’t going to hurt you.” The words came out of Ronan’s mouth with its normal indifference, but all he could think about was how quickly Adam had remembered that night too. All things considered, Adam was taking this intrusion way better than he did then. 

Adam had turned his attention back to the engine. “Whatever. What do you want? I’m working right now.”

Ronan wandered over to the truck and looked inside, observing nothing in particular. He needed to do something in order to ignore the anticipation building up inside him. “Oh, this? Is this what people do to make, what’s it called…. money?”

Adam talked into the car rather than to Ronan. “Ha-ha, yes, we all know, you have money and never need to work a day in your life.”

“Where’s boss-man?”

“He went home.”

Ronan looked inside the bed of the truck but found nothing to play with. “You should leave then. Get the fuck out of here. It’s basically nighttime.”

“Nighttime means nothing when it comes to work. I’ll get the extra hours. And, I kind of like the quiet.” Adam let the hood of the truck slam down and looked at Ronan, who was still staring into the bed of the truck as if he was leaning over a bridge and looking into a pond. 

Ronan couldn’t think of a response to that, and he had already used up almost all of his mental capacity trying to keep cool. So he just said, “I have something to give you.” 

He heard the clang of the wrench dropped into the toolbox. Considering Adam liked “the quiet,” he sure was making a lot of noise. Then Adam asked, “Why?”

Ronan looked up to see Adam standing on the other side of the truck bed, wiping his hands on a rag. He tried not to get distracted by the way Adam’s t-shirt hugged his upper arms. Ronan wasn’t expecting “Why.” A more normal response would have been, “What is it?” Or, “What, right now?” At first, he thought Adam was already getting defensive, but Adam’s face only showed slight confusion. 

Ronan replied, “For your birthday.”

Adam continued to look confused for a few more seconds before he shrugged, as if his fucking birthday wasn’t important. He walked to the back of the garage where a sad excuse for a sink stood. He started to wash the rag. He talked into the sink, “I wasn’t expecting anything from you anyway.” 

Ah, there it was. The defensiveness.

Ronan should’ve known the conversation would turn into this, but Adam’s dismissal still stung. He responded, “Not expecting anything  _ from me _ ? What, because I’m a demon viper?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. You just don’t—”

“What? Don’t show affection? Am incapable of feeling?”

“It doesn’t matter, Lynch. You didn’t get a gift, that’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do. I saw it on your face.” 

Adam shut the water off. When Adam swung around to look at him, Ronan felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. Those blue eyes could cut as sharp as any blade when Adam was scrutinizing something. 

Adam asked calmly, “What did you see?” 

Ronan did not like how Adam asked the question, but he knew what he had seen at Nino’s, and he wasn’t going to let Adam scare him away. He responded, “Disappointment.” 

Adam pshaw’ed and threw the rag in the sink. “You know, shockingly, my world doesn’t revolve around you and if you give me attention and gifts.”

Where the hell did that thought come from? Of course Adam was perfectly allowed to have a life beyond him, but surely Ronan mattered at least a little? Adam was clearly avoiding the issue, and it was starting to piss Ronan off. The pain twisted inside him and by the time it reached his mouth, it was tinged with anger. “What the hell, Parrish... that’s not what I meant at all.”

By now Adam had stormed back to the toolbox, apparently rummaging for something. Ronan figured he didn’t need anything but wanted to make noise for the fucking sake of it. Something, Ronan noted, he himself did all the time. 

“I don’t care, Ronan,” Adam said over the jostling. “I don’t give a shit whether you got me something or not. There? You can go now.”

Hell no — Adam wasn’t going to get rid of him that easily. Ronan wanted to get closer to him, but the goddamn truck was in his way. He started around it as he said, “Don’t bullshit me. You’re just pissed I actually saw that you were sad and that you made it obvious enough for me to notice it.”

Adam said curtly, “Just stop.” He moved away from Ronan toward the front of the truck. 

Ronan backtracked and followed him on the opposite side. “You were upset. So get mad. Get mad at me, yell at me!”

Adam yelled, quick to follow Ronan’s demand, “What the fuck do you think I’m doing right now?”

“Right now? I think you’re avoiding the issue by bringing up unrelated bullshit.”

Adam stopped dead in his tracks and faced Ronan head-on in front of the car. His voice got quiet and deadly, “Don’t therapize me, Lynch. You don’t know everything.”

Ronan lowered his voice too, leaning in towards Adam’s face. “Yeah, I don’t know everything, but I know  _ some  _ things, and like it or not, I know some things about  _ you _ .”

Adam didn’t step down. “And what the fuck do you know?”

“I know that I fucked up. And I know that it hurt you.” Adam started to speak again, but some sick desperation burst through Ronan suddenly and he couldn’t contain his voice rising, “I hurt you Adam! Please stop denying it.”

Adam stared coldly, but he was clearly shocked enough by Ronan’s outburst that he shut up. Ronan was breathing hard. He didn’t really know what he wanted to say, but he knew he had Adam’s full attention and couldn’t fuck this opportunity up. He looked down, suddenly self-conscious and uncertain, as he said, “It really shouldn’t be a fucking surprise that I could see it. I already spend all my time thinking about your goddamn face.”

Adam didn’t respond for a long time. Ronan kept his head down and kicked the ground with his foot. He figured Adam should have the next word, whatever it would be. Probably something explicit.

But instead, he watched as Adam’s hand came into his line of sight. His fingers found Ronan’s hand but didn’t grasp on. Adam’s hand pulled back, but Ronan’s followed it like a magnet. 

Adam slowly leaned against the grill of the truck. His voice felt far away, “I’ve never been good at this. This… emotional shit.”

Ronan was surprised by how soft Adam’s voice was. 

“And you think I am?” He shifted so he mirrored Adam on the truck. “We both hide shit from people, Adam. It’s like our fucking natural instinct. It's what we do. And fuck letting anyone else inside our heads. I should know. I’ve been there.”

Adam glanced at Ronan. “That’s pretty introspective of you.”

He shrugged, “I’m stubborn. I’m not dumb.”

Ronan watched his hand float in the languid movement of Adam’s long fingers while they traced nothing in particular. 

After another pause, Adam finally asked, “Why?” 

This time, Ronan knew exactly what this question meant. He glanced up at Adam, who was staring out into the street. The orange tint from what must have been a beautiful sunset dripped into the garage and made Adam glow. 

He hesitated before admitting, “I was afraid.”

“What were you afraid of?”

“I don’t know.”

Adam turned to look at Ronan. “If you were afraid of disappointing me,” he smiled bitterly, “I hate to tell you still somehow nailed it.”

Ronan’s chest physically hurt. He let out a shaky breath, “Adam. When you looked at me that night… that image has been stuck in my head since then. And it’s fucking torture to know I was the one who did it.” He placed his hand on Adam’s cheek. Adam didn’t pull away. “I never want to be the reason you feel that way. And if I am, you better fucking tell me.” The way he said it, it almost sounded like a threat. 

Adam studied Ronan’s face. The dramatic lighting on Adam reminded Ronan of the stained glass windows in St. Agnes. He was a lot like those windows, composed of hundreds of colorful shards. Each piece was unique: some were shiny, some were dull. Some were smooth-edged, some were ragged. Ronan’s favorites were the sharp, cracked ones that could draw blood. Those needed to be handled delicately. But if you fit them in the right place, it made the whole image clearer. It was a holy quest for Ronan to pursue. But he didn’t need a perfect stained glass window. What he had before him was already more transcendent than anything an artist could create, more incredible than anything he could dream.

Adam let out a long sigh, like he had been holding his breath since Ronan had stopped talking. Maybe he had been. Ronan waited until Adam finally said, “I don’t know what I expected, considering you’ve given me plenty of gifts already but have never had the balls to give any of them to my face.”

Ronan looked sharply at Adam, but he was just smirking. It was small but vicious. He shoved Adam, “Jack-ass.” Adam bounced back, still with a small smile. Adam always bounced back with Ronan. He was patient that way.

Ronan let his own smile fade, still unsure if what he said was enough. “I’m sorry I failed.” He didn’t know his voice could get so quiet.

Adam just looked at him, and Ronan realized he was allowing Ronan to see his face, to see what he felt. So Ronan looked, and he saw understanding and forgiveness. He felt his heart pound.

Adam squeezed Ronan’s hand and replied, “Well, I don’t think you  _ failed _ , especially if you have something to give me now.” He pushed himself off the car and started to walk past Ronan to the worktable. 

Ronan grabbed Adam’s wrist and in one swift move maneuvered the two of them so he was in between Adam and the worktable.

He placed the gift behind his back, not subtle at all. “But I thought you didn’t want it anymore.” He had no fucking clue why he was acting so boldly considering Adam had graciously forgiven him only a moment ago.

Adam was clearly thinking the same thing, staring at Ronan. He breathed out a laugh in disbelief, “Are you shitting me right now, Ronan?” The exasperation was obvious, and it  _ did  _ sound like Adam might kill him, but this wasn’t the same exasperation as before, when Ronan first entered the garage. It was the exasperated tone Adam used with Ronan’s usual shenanigans. 

So Ronan figured he could test his luck.

He started to stride past Adam, twisting his body to hide his gift. “Of course not. I insist. I’ll just go return it now. Hopefully I still have that receipt somewhe—” 

But he couldn’t finish his speech because Adam reached for him and then he was sprinting.

Adam groaned behind him, “You fucking bastard! Give it here!” 

And that’s how they spent the next five minutes running around the red pick-up truck. Adam got close to catching Ronan a few times, but that’s only because Ronan let him get close. Ronan swore Adam also let him escape more than once. Neither of them would ever admit such things. One time, when Adam almost caught him, he broke the rules and hopped into the bed of the truck and ran across to the other side. Adam called bullshit, but Ronan didn’t give a damn, because 1) fuck arbitrary rules, and because 2) Adam was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. It made Ronan’s heart soar and gave him the energy to run three more laps around the truck.

Finally, after all that cardio, Adam grabbed Ronan’s waist, pulling him in close. Laughing breathlessly, he declared, “Gotcha! No, not you—” 

Adam shoved Ronan away as he held up his prize. Triumphant, he announced, “Finally!” 

Breathing heavily, Ronan retreated and leaned against the truck’s back door. He watched Adam from a distance like the deer who watched him at the Barns, now full of nerves again. He was already fighting the instinct to hop back into the BMW and run away. What if after all that stupid anticipation, he didn’t even like it?

But Adam was still smiling, also breathing hard. He looked up at Ronan, the record in his hands. “Hozier?” He flipped the record over, looking at the tracklist. “You know, records are for, like—”

“Old people?”

“Older artists from decades ago,” Adam corrected, raising his eyebrows at Ronan. He was probably offended that Ronan inadvertently called him “old” for having a record player. He had found a dusty, shabby one at the donation center about a month ago and had bought it immediately. Ronan had never seen him spend money so willingly, not even for groceries or gas. 

Adam continued, studying his new gift, “Hozier just came out with this album only a few months ago.”

Ronan shrugged, realizing how sweaty he was again after running in the early evening heat. “I don’t know anything about the band. The lady at the store said he would be a good choice for someone who liked blues and moody rock, and the guy on the cover has cool hair, so I said ‘fuck it.’”

Adam put the record back on the table delicately and walked over to Ronan with a sly smile. He teased, “You know what kind of music I like.”

Ronan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, not from exercise this time. He shifted his stance, “See, you’re not so good at hiding crap about yourself.”

Adam simply mmhm’ed, wrapping his arms around Ronan’s neck. The closeness was immediate. Ronan could see the sweat on Adam’s neck, and he could feel how Adam’s shirt was just slightly damp when he put his hands on Adam’s hips. 

“You know,” Adam started scratching Ronan’s neck lightly, and goosebumps quickly followed, “Hozier is Irish.”

Ronan raised his eyebrows, actually interested by this fact despite himself. “Oh?”

Adam snickered. He ran one of his fingers along the neck seam of Ronan’s t-shirt, continuing, “Yeah, maybe you should give him a listen and ditch that electronic garbage you force everyone to endure.”

Ronan replied, “That’s rude.” It was truly one of Ronan’s worst comebacks ever, but his brain was slowly dissipating as he watched Adam’s face slowly scan up and down his body. Adam’s hair was a tousled mess after a long day of work and three minutes of running. All Ronan could think about was how he desperately wanted to mess it up even more.

Adam mmhm’ed again, still content to play with Ronan’s neckline. He drew his eyes up to Ronan’s and said, “He would probably be fun to listen to while making out.” And that was just too much, so Ronan leaned in quickly to catch Adam’s mouth. 

With that first, long kiss, Ronan felt relief: relief that Adam had accepted his gift, his apology, and all the annoying things Ronan ever did. The wave of relief was quickly consumed with a new sense of urgency. He could tell Adam was feeling the same way as he pushed Ronan against the truck and opened his mouth to taste more of Ronan with each kiss. It hadn’t been that long since they had last hooked up, but after suffering through all the uncertainty of the last few days, Ronan felt invigorated and, well, horny as hell. He was on a roller coaster now: it had reached its peak, and now he was plummeting, fast and dangerous. And Adam was there along for the ride.

Ronan met every one of Adam’s hungry kisses with the same fervor. He savored running his hands through Adam’s hair. He tugged slightly, grabbing desperately for more, and Adam let out a soft noise in the back of his throat. Wanting to hear the sound again, he tugged harder, forcing Adam’s head back. Adam moaned, a pleasant confirmation that Ronan’s experiment worked, and Ronan turned his attention to his now open neck.

While Ronan kissed and sucked on Adam’s neck, he felt Adam’s hand wrap itself around the back of his head, the other hand gripping the top of the truck’s back door. His breath was hot against Ronan’s ear. The heat — no surprise — had increased. Ronan didn’t mind too much, although his jeans, which had been uncomfortable all day, were almost torturous at this point. Somehow Adam made it worse and better at the same time by rubbing his leg against his hard-on. Ronan tried to keep his focus on Adam’s neck, still stretched and asking for contact. He noticed a long drip of sweat, and he took it upon himself to lick it off, all the way from the base of his neck up to his ear. 

Adam sighed, “Ronan.”

This had become one of Ronan’s favorite moments when hooking up with Adam. When “Lynch” became “Ronan.” He took a quick nip of Adam’s ear in reply and returned to Adam’s lips. Adam continued to rub up against him. Ronan tried to mirror his movement, but it was hard to tell if he was making any contact with the coveralls knotted in front of Adam’s lower stomach. He figured he was doing alright by the way Adam was trying to catch his breath in between kisses. Ronan was also losing his breath too, so he pulled away. They watched each other, both slightly panting.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” Ronan breathed out. 

Adam smirked, “Getting hot and bothered, are we?”

Ronan couldn’t bother trying to come up with a retort: there were more important things to figure out. “What do you think, will the guy be mad if we fuck in the back of his truck?”

Adam looked at Ronan, incredulous and amused. “I may be a country hick who grew up in a trailer, but I refuse to do it in the back of a red pick-up truck.”

“Okay, fine,” Ronan said, as if this was a ridiculous request but he was willing to compromise. “Where’s the office, then?”

Adam rolled his eyes, “God, you are desperate.” But he must have been desperate too because he went along with it and grabbed Ronan’s hand, pulling him to a small room adjacent to the large garage. 

The garage benefited from a wide open door that allowed the air, albeit humid, to enter and move. The office, meanwhile, was stuffy: besides the door they had just walked through, there was no other way for air to circulate. The office was only lit by the streetlight on the opposite side of the road. The last few moments of sunset were fading quickly, and night was about to settle in completely. 

Adam dropped Ronan’s hand and left him behind the counter. He went to the front door, locked it, and flipped over the sign to “closed.” 

“Well that’s no fun,” Ronan complained, feeling naked without Adam close to him, despite still being fully dressed. He waited obediently for Adam to return after he confirmed everything was locked. When he did he gave Ronan another long kiss.

Adam pulled back and said, “Hey, I’m letting you fuck me where I work, aren’t I? Isn’t that enough?”

Ronan grinned. Before Adam could react, Ronan placed his hands on Adam’s chest and pushed him against the wall behind the counter, opposite of the front door and windows facing the street. 

“Yeah, sure.” He brought his lips close to Adam’s ear. Adam shivered even before he said anything, so Ronan waited another moment just to fuck with him a bit more, breathing onto his skin and pressing his thigh against Adam’s cock. Finally he said, “If that’s what you want, birthday boy.” And then he crashed his mouth against Adam’s. 

Adam groaned, grabbing Ronan’s ass and pulling him closer. The knot of the coveralls pressed awkwardly against Ronan’s stomach and blocked him from completely smothering Adam. Before he got that out of the way though, he had to get off that white t-shirt, the thing that had been on his mind since Adam had the audacity to walk in front of Ronan like he was a porn star. His hands crawled up under Adam’s shirt, tracing the small dips of abs and running along ribs. He paused for a second to feel Adam’s chest beat and to remind himself this was real, and Adam was real, and Adam was here, biting Ronan’s lip, urging him on.

Ronan pulled off Adam’s shirt and, fuck it, no better time than the present, so he took his off too. At this point it didn’t change his body temperature, but it was a matter of efficiency. Adam gave his approval by making some indiscernible noise in the back of his throat. He brought Ronan against him again with an open-mouthed kiss and scratched his nails down Ronan’s shoulder blades. Ronan groaned and tried to grind against Adam’s body. It almost worked, but the damn coveralls were literally cock-blocking him.

Ronan dropped his focus and his hands down to untie the knot. In the meantime, Adam busied himself nibbling along Ronan’s neck. For once, Ronan started to sympathize with his classmates, always bitching and moaning about how hard it was to undress their girlfriends. It sounded like girls could wear the most complicated things — sometimes he was convinced Blue’s outfits included at least ten different parts, bless Gansey’s soul — but he did not expect coveralls to give him so much trouble.

Ronan cursed, “Fuck your stupid uniform. Why did you tie this like you’re in the goddamn navy?”

Adam responded by sucking hard on Ronan’s neck, and Ronan cursed again. Now satisfied, Adam brought his hands down and untied the knot smoothly like it was a fucking bow on a present.

He raised his eyebrows, smug. Ronan glared back at him and pushed Adam’s hands away. He said, “Thanks,” but by the way it came out, it sounded more like, “Fuck you.” Adam just smirked.

Ronan placed his hands on the fabric of the coveralls and Adam’s boxers, pushing only slightly down and letting his thumbs grace along Adam’s lower abdomen. Adam breathed out quickly, but he kept his eyes on Ronan’s, challenging him. They didn’t break eye contact as Ronan got on his knees. One of their favorite games: who was going to break eye contact first? 

Ronan took his time as he pulled down the coveralls along with Adam’s boxers and let Adam’s cock hit the air. He paused to appreciate the view: disheveled, naked Adam, slightly panting and looking down at Ronan. Ronan grabbed Adam’s cock gently and let his thumb run along the head, spreading the juice that was already there. Adam swallowed, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing up and down. Ronan brought his mouth close and made small, slow circles with his tongue around the tip, all while still staring at Adam, who was putting up a good fight. But his jaw was tight. Ronan ghosted his other hand up Adam’s inner thigh. Adam needed something shocking to lose his focus.

So with no warning, Ronan gripped his hip and took Adam entirely in his mouth.

Adam swore loudly, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back against the wall. Ronan smiled - as much as you can with a cock in your mouth - triumphant in his win. He started at a normal, standard pace, letting his hand rub the parts of Adam’s cock that his mouth couldn’t reach. After a moment Adam brought his eyes back down, focused again. Adam’s jaw was slack and he was breathing heavily, but his eyes were steady and intent. He was studying Ronan’s movements, his mouth. The thought of Adam watching him so intensely made his own cock strain even more against his jeans. He groaned, sending vibrations around Adam’s cock. He took Adam deeper and deeper, riding Adam’s deep breaths and soft moans like waves.

While Ronan mused how fucking lucky he was to be giving his gorgeous boyfriend a blow job, another game came to his head as he considered where exactly they were. Glancing up at Adam, it didn’t look like he needed much more to take him over the edge. When was Adam going to let Ronan do anything like this again? Hopefully, very soon, but Ronan thought he should take full advantage of the situation. Now was the time to have a bit of fun. 

He took his mouth off of Adam’s cock, feeling the slight release of his jaw. He immediately started to pump his hand, letting his saliva act as a very handy lubricant. Adam, who had closed his eyes, opened them to look at Ronan again, not necessarily upset with the change but certainly curious.

“Liking it so far?” Ronan asked casually, still rubbing his hand up and down assuredly.

Adam just stared dumbly for a moment. Finally he responded, exasperated, “Um, sure?” 

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Well, maybe I would like it more—” he was having trouble focusing, the poor thing “—if you fucking made me come.”   


Ronan smiled as Adam walked perfectly into his trap. He said, “Well I can do that, but you have to promise no one will be able to tell.”

Adam shut his eyes tightly, struggling to deal with Ronan’s bullshit. He forced out, “What the hell are you talking about, Lynch?”

Ronan asked innocently, “What if someone comes in? You gotta look professional, right?”

Ronan watched Adam slowly realize what he was implying. Where they were standing behind the counter. How Ronan was kneeling, hidden from the front door. And how Adam was in plain view. Of course, no actual human being was going to come in looking for a car inspection. Adam, ever logical, knew this. But logic wasn’t the one leading Adam’s thoughts right now. The idea that it  _ could  _ happen was enough. As realization dawned on Adam, Ronan took his cock back in his mouth and sucked hard.

Adam swore loudly, “Fuck.” He was already doing a bad job at putting on a straight face for potential customers. He grabbed Ronan’s head, steadying himself, and with a groan started to thrust into Ronan’s mouth. 

Ronan moaned in the back of his throat and eagerly let himself fall in time to Adam’s thrusts. He moved one of his hands to the wall, and Adam clutched onto it. He was looking out onto the street, no doubt imagining the scene Ronan had put in his mind. He looked down at Ronan - the hair around his forehead damp from perspiration - and almost immediately shut his eyes with another groan.

“ _ Ronan _ .” It was desperate. It was fucking beautiful. Ronan would fight God and his angels to hear Adam say his name like that. “Ronan, I’m—”

Adam’s hips were thrusting so fast, Ronan just let his head remain still and watched Adam absolutely fall apart in front of him. He revelled at the feeling of Adam squeezing his hand so hard he could feel the nails dig in slightly. He drank in the view and swallowed all that Adam gave him.

After a few moments passed, he stood up slowly as Adam let out ragged breaths. His cheeks were flushed, and he lay against the wall like he might fall down without the support. The fact that Ronan did this to Adam all by himself was something he would never get tired of. He leaned in and gave Adam a long, slow kiss. He could feel the sweat on both their chests, which was kind of gross, but it also wasn’t totally unpleasant.

When Ronan felt Adam’s heart slow down to an ordinary pace, Ronan pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Adam’s. He whispered, “Happy Birthday.” And he meant it, and for once he was perfectly happy with how dramatic and loving it sounded. Adam gave a small smile and simply put his lips back on Ronan’s, which was the perfect reply. 

They kissed for a while like that, time floating in no particular direction, the dull sound of cicadas outside humming around them. Finally, Adam pulled back, his hands wrapped around Ronan’s neck. Somehow, the nasty yellow light of the streetlamp outside only made Adam more beautiful, accentuating the finer details Ronan had now memorized after years of study. See? He was focused on  _ something  _ during all that time at Aglionby. 

Adam said softly, “There is actually one more thing I would like for my birthday.”

Ronan rolled his eyes dramatically, “Jeez, you are a needy bitch.” 

“Well, what I was gonna say is that I want to make you feel as good as you just made me.”

Ronan didn’t expect that. He should have, honestly: Adam almost never accepted something without giving something in return. If he was asking to pay Ronan back or get his gas or something, Ronan probably would have resisted. But what could he say: he was just a man, and a man with a still-hard cock, for that matter. 

Ronan admitted, “I won’t say no, if that’s your question. Anything for your birthday.”

Adam smirked, “What a saint.” He kissed Ronan again, this time with renewed energy, and Ronan happily let Adam lead him backwards. He felt the pressure on the back of his legs and was pushed down by Adam before he fully realized he was sitting in a chair.

“What the hell?” Ronan murmured between kisses. Adam pulled back, confused. Ronan asked breathlessly, “There was a fucking chair in here this whole time?”

Adam laughed, loud and bright. Fuck, happy Adam was such a hidden treasure Ronan never got tired of it, even if it was at his expense. After having his moment of joy, Adam put his lips on Ronan’s neck, saying as his lips started to travel down, “I thought you were just into the aesthetic of being on your knees for me.” Adam wasn’t wrong, but truthfully, Ronan had just been too horny to pay much attention to his surroundings.

Having now accepted the fact that he was indeed in an office chair, Ronan leaned back and let Adam continue his work. The weight of Adam’s body pressing on top of Ronan’s was like a beautiful blanket. The thought of Adam completely enclosing Ronan was both comforting and arousing. He tried to make note of everything: Adam’s hand gripping Ronan’s neck, Adam’s tongue swirling in circles around one sweet spot, and Adam’s other hand rubbing against Ronan’s cock, still trapped in his jeans. Ronan let out a soft moan and rolled his hips into Adam’s hand. It was all lavish and slow, like hot summer days in Henrietta. Adam embodied Henrietta in so many ways, whether he liked it or not. 

Adam brought his hands down to unzip Ronan’s jeans. He gripped the sides, and Ronan lifted his hips to let it slide down just enough so his cock could be free. They had already disgraced Boyd’s enough, he figured he could at least show some decency by not sitting butt-naked in this chair.

Adam placed his hand right next to Ronan’s cock and gave him a long, hot kiss. Ronan could feel the heat of Adam’s wrist radiating so close to his cock, and he groaned into Adam’s mouth. He needed physical contact. He shifted his hips, trying to get friction of some kind. Finally, Adam let his hand wrap around his cock delicately.

Too delicately. His hand was a little too wide. It was a ghost, a semblance of a presence. It was there, but it was absolutely not enough. It was barely a hand job. What kind of fuckery was this?

Ronan reminded himself patience is a virtue. Maybe Adam was going to change the pace soon, grip more tightly? But then he remembered he had given up on virtues years ago, and when Adam was definitely  _ not  _ changing the pace, he groaned again, this time in frustration.

He pulled back, panting despite himself, “Are you trying to kill me, Parrish?” His hips had joined Adam’s hand, moving up and down, trying to make contact, but it didn’t make any difference. 

Adam tilted his head, his hand still moving in unspeakably cruel ways. He asked, “What, you want it now?”

What part of this situation made Adam think that Ronan, sweaty with legs wide open, didn’t want it right now? “Sure, now would be fucking nice,” Ronan breathed.

Adam shrugged, apparently very collected, “I figured you could wait like you made me wait.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. Now Adam was playing a game he didn’t understand. Seeing that he wasn’t getting it, Adam elaborated, “Three days for a gift? I mean, that’s not very nice.”

Ronan gritted his teeth. “Fuck you,” he growled.

Suddenly, Adam swung his leg around, now straddling Ronan’s lap. His body folded over Ronan’s, but he somehow kept his grip light. He pressed his lips against Ronan’s ear, “If you want this, you’re gonna have to ask me nicely.”

Now Ronan whimpered. Adam bit on his earlobe, and Ronan tried to make up for his embarrassing noise by snapping at Adam’s face like a dog. Adam moved back quickly, grinning. And people always compared Ronan’s grin to a shark. 

“C’mon, Lynch.” Adam slowed his hand, which had seemed impossible before but was clearly humanly possible. Ronan knew he deserved every second of it, and there was a part of him that secretly loved Adam being so devious, but he also thought he might explode if he had to wait any longer. Adam stared at Ronan while he brought up his perfect thumb to rub across Ronan’s lips. He asked innocently, “For the birthday boy?”

Ronan moaned, “Fuck, Adam, please—” and he would’ve continued, would’ve pleaded with all obscenities under the sun, but Adam shut him up by crashing his lips onto his, and then, like a true magician, his hand performed magic.

It was now a new kind of unbearable. Now that Ronan had it, he needed all of it. And he couldn’t let Adam sneak away. Not now, not ever. So he wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him right on top of him, and he writhed while Adam’s hand worked him quick and dirty. And he continued to beg in between all of Adam’s hungry kisses: “please… shit… Adam… oh fuck, please… don’t stop… don’t....” He was begging for more than just a climax. He begged for Adam to be there always, no matter what kind of the stupid shit Ronan did.  _ Don’t stop, don’t leave, please never leave.  _

And Adam just responded, “C’mon, Ronan, I got you.” Reassuring, encouraging. His hand was slick, and his mouth was wet on Ronan’s neck, and it was so fucking hot, this whole day had been so damn hot-

He groaned into Adam’s mouth as he came, feeling the liquid spill onto his chest. Adam slowed his hand and his kisses, and Ronan’s body shuddered as his senses slowly returned. He breathed heavily, and eventually he brought his focus back to Adam’s eyes. He sighed, “Adam.”

Adam looked at Ronan, eyebrows raised, eyes still mischievous and bright. Ronan, drained of all energy and cynicism, could only say, “Thank you.” 

Adam smiled broadly. He kissed Ronan again, tender and passionate. When he pulled back he said, “Thank  _ you _ .”

Ronan smiled back, “So, did I redeem myself?”

Adam traced the lines of Ronan’s tattoo that crawled up onto his shoulder, answering, “Oh, this was the year you could fuck up. I’m fully expecting you to get it right next year, or there will be consequences.”

Ronan was curious about what these “consequences” entailed, but he figured that could be a conversation for another day. “Fine. Can we please leave this dump?”

“I thought  _ you  _ were the one who wanted to fuck in a car shop.” 

“Doesn’t mean this place isn’t hot as fucking Hades, and now that we’ve essentially run a marathon in here, I need at least 10 showers.”

Adam got up and started to get dressed. He threw Ronan’s shirt at him, but Ronan felt far too sticky and disgusting to consider putting on another article of clothing. 

Adam said, “Well, I’m done with work for the night.”

Ronan stood up, zipped up his jeans, and stretched. “Jesus Christ, I hope so.”

Adam headed back into the garage, asking over his shoulder, “Do you have a record player at the Barns?”

When Ronan followed Adam and re-entered the garage, the temperature dropped at least five degrees. “Probably. It might involve some weird dream shit, but it can probably play music.”

Adam grabbed his gift and raised his eyebrows, using the record to fan himself. “How about we try it out and take a listen to this?”

“Can we shower first?”

Adam put the record in Ronan’s hands and started to lower the garage door. Ronan praised Jesus that the garage had to be closed manually so he could watch Adam’s arms flex to pull the chain and bring it down. 

Adam grunted as he brought down the door, “I figured if we’re sweaty now, we might as well continue the fun until we’ve exhausted all options.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ronan, who remembered at that moment what Adam had said about making out to this Hoze guy, or whatever his name was.

With the garage door closed, Adam grabbed the building’s keys and pocketed them. He leaned on the small side door that also entered into the garage. He continued, “And then, after that, we can shower. If you still have the energy for one more round.” 

Now Ronan really wanted to get the fuck out of here. He knew putting on his shirt would’ve been pointless. “Is that a challenge, Parrish?”

Adam pushed the door open. “Drive me home in your fancy beemer, Lynch,” and then he was out the door. Ronan ran after him, clutching onto the record. He already couldn’t wait to celebrate Adam’s birthday next year.

**Author's Note:**

> First, a thank you to Riverdale, episode one, for giving us slow-mo KJ Apa wiping sweat off with his t-shirt and inspiring me to have Adam do the same for Ronan’s (and everyone’s) enjoyment.
> 
> Second, a far more important thank you to the wonderful the_oxfordcomma, who constantly inspires me to be creative and, yes, embrace the smut. Thank you for enjoying the same crazy stuff I do. Also, thanks for introducing me to these boys?? There is a subtle nod to her amazing work hidden in here, so you should check her stuff out so you can also know what the reference is.


End file.
